Safe And Sound
by Of Doctors and Tardises
Summary: The last thing John Watson expects is to be Reaped into the Hunger Games. And the VERY last thing he expects is to find friendship in a certain tribute from District Eight, Sherlock Holmes. Who will die? Who will win? Will John and Sherlock be able to find love, or will the Games tear them apart? (Johnlock. Warnings for violence and character death. Story better than summary!)
1. The Reaping

**Author's Note: To all my readers from John's Lullaby (my other Johnlock fic), welcome back and thank you for sticking around! To all new readers, also welcome and thank you for taking the time to read this! I hit a snag in my other Johnlock story, so I decided to move on and do something new. I promise I am still writing it, and it will be updated soon! **

**Anyway, this is obviously going to be about the Hunger Games, and obviously Johnlock, because that's what people do. And let me be clear that Katniss and Peta and the main characters will NOT be in this. Just a warning. Basically, Katniss failed the revolution, or whatever you want to think happened to keep the Hunger Games running. :) **

**There will be major character deaths and violence and gore, which comes with the territory of the Hunger Games, I suppose. Anway, enjoy my lovely readers! **

The cool breeze swirled in the air, sending leaves flying from their branches and playfully blowng all around the clearing. The sun shown brightly with not a cloud in the sky, and John Watson sat peacefully in the middle of it all. This was his place; no one in District Twleve knew that such a field settled in the middle of the forest existed. Most likely because no one was aloud out here, if the electric fences surrounding the district were any indication to go by. Thankfully for him, there were some that were somehow lacking in the electricity department near his home, hidden from view and away from Peacekeepers. He went here more often than he knew he should, but he found himself continuing to come to this place; his little piece of paradise, his home away from home. Here he was aloud to be anyone he wanted to be, think whatever he wished. He could get away from everything, like his drunk of a sister and his emotionally distraught mother. For at least a few hours, he could clear his mind and not worry about how he would find food for the winter(Which incredibly enough this area always seemed to have some wildlife all year round, be it rabbits or if he got lucky, an occasional deer), where he would find his sister passed out this time, whether his mother managed to get out of bed at all, let alone ate or drank.

The breeze picked up again, playing on his skin and rummaging through his short sandy blonde hair. Yes, today was a perfect day. A perfect day for the Reaping. John sighed as he measured the time. The sun was directly overhead, making it around noon. The Reaping would begin at one. He knew back in the district people young and old would be preparing themselves; washing up, doing their hair,wearing their nicest clothes. They would be preparing themselves for the inevitable goodbyes of the two 'lucky' children who were 'honored' to play in the Games.

"What if I didn't go back?" he muttered to himself, basking in the warmth of the sun and cooled by the breeze before he could get too hot. It was possible. He could run away, leave it all behind him. Live in the forest and hunt deer and rabbit, eat berries and drink from the river. He could survive on his own. He was more than capable. The tiniest bit of hope he had quickly diminished, however. He knew doing that would be impossible. He couldn't leave Harry or his mother. Despite everything, how broken they were, how immature and irresponsible, they were still family. And they relied fully on him to keep them alive, for all it was worth.

John reluctantly stood from his spot on the grassy ground, and began to make his way home after managing to catch a rabbit, slicing it cleanly across the neck with the small dagger he kept in his pocket at all times. You could never be too careful out in the wild like he so often was. There were many awful beings out there, probably sent out by the Capital to keep the districts in check. He quickly ducked underneath the fence, and making sure no Peacekeepers were in sight he began to walk through the small little town of District Twelve towards his home. The district that John called home was one of the poorest, and every building was run down, some close to even collapsing. Everyone was starving here, many suffering from malnutrition, causing illness to run rampant. John took to becoming a healer as soon as he was old enough, reading as many books as he could find on the subject and learning all he could from an elderly man who quickly became like his own father that he never had. Not too long after he began as a healer, a girl around his own age named Sarah came along and they worked together and became fast friends.

"Out again, John?" an elderly voice called as he walked down the dirt street. John stopped and turned.

"Hello, Walt." he greeted warmly to the elderly man who he loved as a father.

"Cutting it awful close, aren't you? The Reaping is less than an hour away, you should be with your family and getting ready. The Peacekeepers have been swarming, you are lucky you made it without getting caught." he replied with a knowing grin. Walt was the only person who knew where John tended to dissapear to, and why. Normally John would have become nervous at that, but he knew he could trust the man. He wouldn't tell.

"I had to get lunch." he replied nonchalantly, holding up the rabbit still warm in his hand. Walt laughed at that and ushered John on his way. He knew better than to be late to the Reaping. The Peacekeepers would have an absolute fit, and depending on who caught him, would possibly just end up shooting him on the spot.

John finally made it back to the tiny shack that barely could be called a home, and upon entering he quickly stored the rabbit to cook later and walked over to his room to get ready for the Reaping. He passed Harry's room to find her passed out on her bed, gotten drunk again no doubt. With a roll of his eyes, he went and began to shake her awake. Couldn't she act responsible, for once? She was older than him, for God sakes! At eighteen, Harriet Watson was tall and slender, with the characteristic sandy blonde hair, and a pretty face. But lately she had gotten dark circles under her eyes, become pale, just tired in general, and took to the drink as her only outlet. It all started during the last Hunger Games, when her then girlfriend Clara was Reaped and eventually killed, and she still hadn't quite gotten over it. John was seventeen himself, and quite short for his age.

"Ugh, leave me 'lone." she moaned as John shook her to consciousness. Yepp, she definitely had drunk her fill. She would be battling one nasty hangover for sure.

"You've got to get up, Harry. The Reaping's soon." he urged, taking off the covers and forcing her to sit up. Harry groaned and protested, but otherwise complied and John took to getting himself ready. He quickly filled the tub with lukewarm water; hot water was a luxury that no one in District Twelve could afford. He scrubbed all the dirt off of his skin until he got to the point where he felt like it would fall off. He dressed in his nicest clothes, which consisted of a too thin beige jumper and black trousers. He walked out into the living area, where he saw his mother and Harry standing by the door. His mother looked vacant, distant, as per usual for her, since their father had died in a mining accident some years ago. Harry had thankfully managed to clean up nicely enough, with her best white blouse tucked into her knee-length grey skirt, and her long hair tied behind her head with a ponytail.

"It's time for you to go." His mother announced, voice soft and trembling. "You don't want to be late."

John gripped her hands and squeezed reassuringly, a small smile forced upon his face.

"Don't worry, we haven't got picked yet, and this is Harry's last time. Our names aren't in there too many times. There are plenty of people with far more. Chances are slim any of us will be picked." he tried to soothe her as best as he could, but she just shook her head at him.

"There is always that slim chance." she whispered as she gave both of her children hugs, eyes filled with unshed tears. John didn't know what to say to that, so he gave her one last squeeze and what he hoped was a reassuring smile, and walked out with Harry for the Reaping.

"How many times has your name been put in?" his sister asked once their mother was out of earshot. They both knew anything they said wrong could push their fragile mother off the edge, and they tried hard to keep that from happening. She didn't even know about Harry's drinking problem.

"I think it's about twenty-five this year." he replied with a sigh. He had been forced to take Tesserae when food ran scarce during the winter.

"Oh, John." Harry muttered, taking a great interest in the ground below her.

"It's not that bad. I know many people who have a lot more." John replied quickly. When she said nothing, he stopped her and turned her to look him in the eye. "Listen to me, Harry. We haven't been Reaped once throughout all these years of being old enough. Not once! Twenty five isn't that bad, and you have even less. There are kids who have thirty and fourty names in. There is no way we are going to be picked. Just keep calm and meet me once this whole thing is over, alright?"

Harry just nodded and took her brother's hand as they continued their walk. They didn't let go until they were forced to. During the Reaping, everyone was split into sections by age and gender; boys on the left side and girls on the right. The youngest ones were in front and the oldest ones were in the back. John let the Peacekeeper prick his finger and then went to his section to await the start of the show, and within a few minutes a woman appeared on the stage, and John couldn't help but stare at her. She looked completely ridiculoous with her bright blue wig and green tint to her skin. Her eyes seemed almost cat like, and they shone a spectacular shade of violet.

"Typical Capital wear." a boy named Stamford muttered with disgust, giving John a nod in greeting.

"Not exactly easy on the eyes, is it?" John retorted with a wry grin as Stamford chuckled. Before the man could reply the woman began speaking in a voice that was much too chipper.

"Hello, and welcome to the anual 94th Hunger Games! May the odds be ever in your favor! Now, let me tell you what an honor it is to be here in the great District Twelve..."

John simply rolled his eyes over at Harry, who was watching him and making a similar expression. The lady was lying through her teeth. District Twelve was the most run down, awful excuse for a settlement. He knew that this was probably the last place she wanted to be. The Capital lady droned on and on, and John didn't really pay much attention, even when the video came on discussing the history of the Games and all the other nonsense that came with it. In fact, he didn't pay attention until she began to call the names of the future tributes.

"As always, ladies first!" She announced as stuck her hand in the glass ball filled with glaringly white pieces of paper, all filled with names of people who were holding their breaths, praying for the mercy of not being picked this year. "The female tribute from District Twelve will be...Sarah Sawyer!"

John watched with horror as the Peacekeepers dragged her up to the stage. She seemed dazed, confused, and scared out of her mind. John's heart went out to her, and he took deep breaths to control himself. Sarah was his best friend, and now she was probably going to die. She was no fighter, not by a long shot. She was only fifteen, for God sakes! He watched her as the Captial woman greeted her and welcomed her to the Games. He could see Sarah trembling from as far back as he was.

"That's a shame." Stammford muttered sadly. "She's a nice girl. I'm sorry, mate. I know you two are friends."

John said nothing to this, but he noticed Harry's sympathetic glance his way. He knew she felt bad for him, but he also knew she was really feeling intense relief for herself. She was safe. No more Reapings, no more fear of dying. She was free. Well, as free as she could get anyway.

"And now for the men..." The woman announced, sticking her hand into another bowl of names. John instinctively held his breath. There was no way he could get picked. It was very improbable. His name wasn't in there that many times. He had gone this long without being picked. Her hand rummaged around much longer than necessary, and he kept asserting the thoughts in his head, louder and louder until his mind was almost screaming.

_It can't be me! It can't be me! It can't be me! _

"The male tribute for District Twelve will be..."

_IT CAN'T BE ME! IT CAN'T BE ME! _

"John Watson!"

All time seemed to stop. He could hear someone screaming his name in the distance, sounding a thousand miles away. He could feel a pair of hands grab him and push him towards the stage. This couldn't be happening. This was impossible. There was no way.

"Hello John! Why don't you tell us about yourself?" the woman greeted far too kindly. John stared at her, eyes unseeing. This couldn't be happening. Not to him. Nothing ever happened to John Watson.

"My name is John Watson...and..." he tried to speak, but words refused to come. His mouth was dry, his throat felt like it was stuffed with God only knows what. Sensing that this wouldn't end well, the woman quickly moved on, asking the tributes to shake hands. John and Sarah turned to face each other, their eyes saying what words could not, and shook trembling hands.

"Happy Hunger Games!" the Captial woman cheered enthusiastically. There was no respone from the croud except for anguished cries that John instanly pegged as Harry. She was most likely the one who screamed earlier too. He could feel Sarah's shaking hand in his, and realized that they hadn't let go. He looked at her, filled with fear and pain and utter disbelief. She was so young. Granted, he was only a few years older than her, but a part of him vowed to protect her as much as he could. He had to be strong, not only for her sake but for his. Because there was nothing else he could do. He had been Reaped.

John Watson was going into the arena.


	2. Saying Goodbye

**Author's Note: Yay! Chapter Two is here! Things will get exciting very soon, I promise! I also just want to apologize for taking so long to update. You know the holidays are coming soon, and Thanksgiving was the other day, so I have been a bit busy. Please forgive me! Anyway, I hope you like this chapter! Comments, favorites, and the whole like are always very appreciated! Also, I am going to have some fun next chapter! I am going to make a little mini-contest. It won't ask you to do anything crazy. Just answer a question! Whoever answers it right first will win a prize! Anyway, back to your originially scheduled programming! Enjoy! :D **

Not even three minutes after being sent into a private room to say his goodbyes, John found himself being hugged tightly by Harry. Tightly being a complete understatement; he felt like the life was being squeezed right out of him. Although given the circumstances, he would much rather die like this than in the Games.

"Oh, John. Oh, John." Harry sobbed into his shirt, clinging onto him like a lifeline. He held her back just as tightly, and he could feel himself trembling in her arms. Mental curses flew through his mind. He needed to control himself. He needed to be strong, for Harry, for his mother, for Sarah. He couldn't panic like a frightened child.

"It's going to be fine, Harry. Just calm down. You need to listen to me, alright? You need to get food and water however you can. You need to stop getting in fights with Peacekeepers. You need to take care of Mum. You need to stop drinking, Harry. Please." John insructed, forcing his voice to be as calm as possible. His sister just shook her head, wiping the tears from her face and stepping away from him.

"I'm sorry, John. That's not going to happen. Food and water and the rest, fine. But I am not going to stop drinking."

"Harry-" John began, ready to let her really have it, but he was interrrupted by a small female voice.

"It's alright, John. We will be fine. You need to worry about yourself." his mother whispered, her voice shaky and cracking in places. Before John could reply to this, his mother joined Harry in squeezing him to death. Again John couldn't help but think he would much rather die in this way.

"Oh, John. I know we haven't made it easy for you. You have done everything for us, but we have done nothing for you. You have sacrificed so much for us, John. And now you are forced to participate in the Games and...I am so sorry. I am so terribly sorry. I should have been there for you. I am your mother, it is my job, but I wasn't. I know you probably aren't very fond of me because of it, but if you could ever forgive me..."

John stared with wide eyes as his mother bursted into a fresh round of tears, unable to finish her train of thought. He didn't know what to say, what to think. His mother was apologizing for not being a part of the family? For not being there when her children so very obviously needed her? For not bothering to leave the house most days, forcing John to get the food and worry about how they were going to survive? This was something completely unexpected from his usually quiet and soft-spoken parent.

"I forgive you." he replied at length, his mother snapping her head up to look at him as he said the words, very surprised. She must not have been planning on that reply, and honestly the seventeen year old wasn't planning on saying those words at all. What he really wanted was to shout and scream and make her realize just what she had done. That Harry was a mess now; a shell of what used to be the most energetic and care free girl he had ever met. That he had been robbed of any kind of childhood, forcing to take care of the family after his father's death at a young age. Not that his father was any parent to be desired.

But as he looked at his mother's wide eyes and felt her tears wet his shirt into a wrinkled mess, he realized that shouting and releasing his anger would be a terrible idea. He was going into the Hunger Games, where he knew in the back of his mind he was going to die. His family was the only thing in the world he had, broken and completely messed up as it was. If this was the last time he was ever going to see them, he wanted it to end at least on decent terms. That would be his last sacrifice for his family. His last effort to protect them and keep them well.

"Y-You do?" his mother whispered, seemingly unable to stand speaking any louder as she watched his face with the tiniest bit of hope in her eyes. It was the most emotion John had ever seen in her.

"Yes, of course I do. But I need you to be there from now on, alright? Harry has been drinking herself to death. She needs you more than anyone right now." he replied, shooting his sister a pointed look as she glared.

"I know. I will try my best, I promise." she replied, voice shaky but determined. John knew that she would, and it brought a small glimmer of relief and peace to his heart. He just hoped that she would succeed for Harry's sake. Honestly all that drinking couldn't possibly be very healthy for the girl at all. He was snapped out of his reverie as the door suddenly bursted open and two Peacekeepers marched in to escort his family out. He noticed, however, that one had a very black eye. He obviously learned his lesson about never laying a hand on Harry when she was upset. John just hoped that she wouldn't be punished too harshly for it.

"I love you, John. Please be safe. Try to win so you can come home." his mother whispered in his ear as she hugged him tight. She gently put something in his hand as she pulled away. He looked down at it, eyes widening in surprise. Draped across his palm and past his finger tips, almost touching the ground was a soft scarf. It was a blue so dark it almost could be mistaken for black. His breath hitched as he stared at his mother in complete disbelief. This was his grandmother's scarf that she gave to his mum before she had died. It was her most prized possession, and one of the very few things she had to keep warm during the winter.

"Keep it. You'll need it more than I do. I have other things to keep me warm. Besides, I want you to have it. As your token. It will remind you of home and what you are fighting to live for." she stated before he could protest. "I love you John."

"I love you, too. Thank you." he replied, shooting her the most confident hint of a smile he could muster as she was quickly forced to leave the room. Harry quickly took her place, wrapping her arms around him in a hug as well.

"Listen to me, John. Make them like you. Capital people don't think about you being a real person, with fears and dreams and hopes and a future. You have to make them see it, John. Show them how wrong this is. Make them feel for you. Make them _care." _she whispered in his ear urgently as one of the Peacekeepers warily began to pull her away.

"Are you seriously suggesting-"

"I know you can do it! If anyone can, it's you! Don't die on me, John Hamish Watson. You'll regret it if you do." Harry called right before the door slammed shut, leaving John on his own in a room that he realized was quite dark. He fell to the hard bench, legs no longer strong enough to hold him. His family, the only thing in the world he had, was now gone. He was going to board the train to his death in a few moments now. And Harry had hinted at him starting a revolution.

_Make them care. _

Yes, that was exactly what she was suggesting. John held the scarf close to him, reveling in the small comfort the smell of home brought him. Could he honestly take on the Capital? He wasn't the strongest or bravest person in the world, and he knew it. He certainly wasn't the smartest either, not by a long shot. Even if he tried, he would most likely mess up somehow. The President would most definitely find out and have him killed instantly. Wasn't that what happened last time something like this was tried?

_Oh God, what do I do?_

He didn't have time to answer his question, for the Peacekeepers returned to send him on the train to the Capital. The train leading to his certain death.

_Not if I can help it. I will save as many people as I can. The Hunger Games will end after this. _

He wasn't sure where the sudden thoughts and burst of bravery came from, but he grabbed them and held on to them for dear life as he was escorted out of the room. Somehow, he was going to do his best to stop this nonsense. He was going to start a revolution.

_What the hell did I just get in to? _


	3. Starting A Revolution

**Author's Note: Sorry if this chapter is long and boring! This was a beast to write! And I also apologize for how long it took me to update! I got wrapped up in work and life in general and didn't get ample time to write! Please bear with me, and I hope you keep reading anyway.**

** As for the contest, I added a little something in here. Something special from my other story, John's Lullaby. I mentioned it twice, but discreetly. If you find it and be the first to comment with the correct answer, you will win a quick one shot of your choice written by me! Anyway, good luck, and enjoy reading!**

Before he could really think about what was happening, John was being pushed outside into utter chaos. There were people all around him, screaming questions that the Capital was just dying to get the answers to, crying for him to be safe and to come back, calling out last minute advice. Everyone was shouting at once in an overwhelming buzz of noise that left John completely disoriented. But then he felt someone grab his hand, and there was Sarah. She looked just as dazed and shocked as he did, but she was _there. _The touch was comforting and it kept him grounded until finally silence greeted them. They were in the train.

"Who knew we were so popular?" Sarah murmured, trying but failing to make a joke. John shot her a wry grin and shook his head.

"I guess that's the thing. No one is truly popular until they are reaped into the Games." he replied back after a moment, taking in his surroundings. He had never seen so much expensive looking decor in once place before. Everywhere he looked screamed wealth and ostentatiousness. He couldn't help but think back to the little shack he called home and feel slightly ashamed, however he quickly banished the feeling. He would be proud of his home, of District Twelve. All the expensive and busy decor really were there to _make_ the tributes feel this way, to show them that the Capital and President Snow would always be in power, that they were nothing in comparison. John would have none of it.

"Ah, I see you two are admiring the lavishness of the decor here. Let me be the first to tell you that there is plenty more where this came from!" the woman John instantly recognized from the Reaping walked over to them, smiling widely.

"I have never seen anything like it." Sarah replied politely, looking all around her with wide eyes.

"It really is...something else." John commented, not quite sure how else to word what he was feeling and still seem polite.

"Well, just you wait till you get to the Capital! It is beyond beautiful. I'll let you two explore for a bit. But remember to come to dinner now, you have to meet your mentor! My name is Gem, if you have any questions or concerns don't hesitate to come find me!" the woman named Gem chirped as she waltzed away. John couldn't help but chuckle as he watched her leave.

"What's so funny?" Sarah asked, rasing her eyebrow at her friend when Gem was out of earshot.

"Nothing...it's just Gem is such a fitting name for her, don't you think?"

"With her emerald skin, turquoise wig, and violet eyes she certainly looks like some gemstones threw up all over her." Sarah agreed with a giggle. John soon joined in, and they found they couldn't stop even if they wanted to. They laughed until tears fell from their eyes and their sides ached to an unbearable degree. With everything going wrong, it was nice just to ignore it for at least a moment and just laugh, even if it was at nothing really funny at all. John found himself feeling much better, the tiniest bit of hope returning. He wondered as he watched Sarah if she felt the same. After catching their breaths they spent hours exploring the train, staring at all the costly furniture and trying to figure out how the many strange gadgets that were thrown about worked. John gripped at the windowsill when he saw just how fast they were travelling when he made the mistake of looking out the window. It was quite unnerving, to say the least, especially since he couldn't feel a thing. The ride was so smooth, if he were asked he would say they weren't moving at all. He did his best to quench the queasyness in his stomach.

"It's amazing, isn't it? How different everything looks outside of District Twelve." Sarah murmured, lost in her own thoughts. John couldn't help but agree with her. The forests and woodland landscape that was prominant in District Twelve were breaking up, beginning to turn into fields and countryside.

"Quite extraordinary." he replied, not entirely sure if his friend even heard him. He wasn't sure how long they sat there like that, watching the world go by, but they didn't move until Gem appeared and ushered them to their rooms to get dressed properly. Apparently dirty, threadbare, ripped clothing were not appropriate for the occasion of being sent to their deaths. John honestly could not see the point of it all.

Begrudgingly he opened his dresser and picked out the most normal looking articles of clothing he could find, which ended up being a beige jumper and some comfortable looking jeans. He made his way to the shower, where he spent what seemed like hours just standing under the hot water as he marveled at it. The closest thing he had ever been to this was boiling semi-clean water and pouring it in a tin tub, and that was usually not very often. Water was a precious thing, and the only way to get it was to either collect rain water or sneak out into the forests and get some from the rivers. Not many people dared to try the later option. The Peacekeepers did terrible things to people who got caught in the act. It never deterred John Watson, not one bit.

He finally made it to the dining area to realize he was the last person to arrive. Gem and Sarah sat next to one another, while an unkempt man with long, slightly graying blond hair sat alone on the opposite side. They all stared at him as he walked over, and he shot them a sheepish look.

"Sorry I'm a bit late." he apologized out of habbit. If anything, he had been taught manners back home at least.

"Not to worry, dear. I understand how overwhelming all this must be for you. Please, do have a seat and enjoy dinner! Oh, and this is your mentor." Gem announced grandly, gesturing towards the lone man who seemed very intent on his drink. When John greeted him, the man did not reply. He shot Sarah a look, and the girl shrugged. Apparently he had treated her the same way. Taking a seat that was thankfully next to his friend, John allowed himself to take in all the food that littered the table. There were all kinds of different meats, many John couldn't even name. There were also breads, fruits, vegetables, and plenty of foods that were foreign to him. Everything was served in the most exhuberant way possible. He found himself scarfing down the food before he could even process what it was he was eating. It all tasted so good! So rich and filling! He had never eaten like this before in his life. With a quick glance, he noticed that Sarah was doing the same.

After a time of complete silence, the man with graying blonde hair finally spoke up, his voice strong and demanding their undivided attention.

"What can you two do?" he demanded, catching the two tributes off guard.

"What do you mean?" Sarah asked first, noticing John's mouth full of food at the moment.

"I _mean _what talents do you have? What can you do that could possibly keep you alive in the arena?" their mentor elaborated grudgingly. John began to dislike the man. His job was supposed to be to keep them alive for as long as possible. He wasn't doing anyone any good with his attitude.

"We were healers, back in District Twelve. Curing people who were sick, tending to injuries." John replied, forcing himself to remain kind. No point in sassing the man who was supposed to keep you alive.

"That will do, I guess. Anything else?" the older man asked gruffly, eyeing them both in a way that John felt meant he had no hope of them getting very far.

"John is strong. He once beat up a Peacekeeper. Plus he can use a gun." Sarah replied, making John choke on his drink mid-sip. What she said was ultimately true. He had beaten a Peackeeper once, a beast of a man who decided it would be a good idea to insult Harry when he found out she was a Lesbian. He was tall and thin, but strong enough to land a few good punches on John once he began to fight him. He had never liked the man very much; he was a shady character with eyes that shown too brightly, and a voice as cool and slippery as a snake. Ian was his name, if his memory served him properly. And he could use a gun, he often used one to shoot birds for food back home. Still, it sounded ridiculous being said aloud.

"You really beat up a Peackeeper?" Gem asked, cat like eyes wide with shock. John gave her a sheepish smile. He supposed not too many people attacked Peackeepers. They often stuck fear in practically everyone in his district.

"A gun's not going to help you much in the arena. They don't use them anymore." their mentor replied, voice void of any possible emotion.

"Well what about Sarah? She can-"

"John, it's alright. I don't have many talents that can help me. " Sarah interrupted, a sad smile that didn't reach her eyes spreading across her lips. A feeling of dismay coursed through John's body. She firmly believed she was going to die.

"Sure you do! You can..." he trailed off, brain struggling for something, anything he could use. She couldn't give up, not yet. As hard as he tried, he couldn't think of anything other than healing people. He only really saw her when they were working. He instantly regretted not hanging out with her more.

"It's fine, John. Really. The only thing I can do is help with injuries." she replied, voice soft.

"But that's something! That knowledge could mean the difference between life and death!" John insisted, refusing to back down on his argument. Sarah didn't reply, and silence crept back into the room until awkwardly broken by Gem.

"Well, the video should be starting soon. The one where they show all the tributes! We don't want to miss it! Shall we?" she asked, rising from her chair and gesturing for the others to do the same. John reluctantly followed suit, the last to stand and follow her out. He wasn't looking forward to this. He knew he needed to get to know his competition, but in all honesty he didn't really want to know. He didn't want to think about who could kill him and who might not. He grabbed on to Sarah's hand as the seal of the Captial appeared on the screen and the introduction played.

District One was played first, the crowd of people roudy as always with excitement for the Games. They were careers, so it wasn't uncommon, but it was quite sickening to watch just the same. The two tributes chosen (A girl named Sally Donovan and a boy who John could only seem to remember his last name, Anderson) were not overly intimidating. He surmised he could probably take them down if need be, but there was something about them that spelled trouble. Instant dislike filled his body. He wouldn't make the mistake of underestimating them.

District Two proved to be more of a problem. A girl by the name of Irene Adler waltzed onto the stage, flashing a charmingly suggestive smile and a wink to her audience. Every part of her screamed she had something up her sleeve, and John felt unease creep through him, cold hands tugging at his heart. If he thought she seemed bad, however, that isntantly proved wrong as the next tribute sauntered up to the stage, a boy by the name of James Moriarty. His eyes shone brightly, and a smile that sent shivers down John's body graced his lips. He would definitely have to watch out for those two.

District Three brought a girl named Kate, a pretty blonde who didn't seem opossing at first, but John guessed she had a fire in her belly, and a boy named Sam who was no older than twelve. He was shocked at first, but he didn't cry. He remained composed throughout the whole spectacle, and John commended him on his bravery, but didn't believe him to last very long.

District Four summoned a shifty looking girl named Clove, and to John's horror a very muscular...man? No, _boy_, named Sebastian Moran. His eyes shone, and John could see hatred, burning like fire behind his pupils. His whole body went cold at the sight. There was no doubt about it. This guy was a cold blooded killer. John felt that this tribute would stop at nothing until he killed each and every tribute unlucky enough to be in the arena.

Districts Five and Six passed by in a blur. John was too busy trying to breathe to pay proper attention. He could feel Sarah's hand tighten around his own sweaty palm. He would ask her about them later.

District Seven brought on a fiery red head named Millie, and a strong, capeable boy named Greg Lestrade. John watched as shock registered through his feautres and he made his way slowly towards the stage, as if in a dream. The camera shifted to show an elderly lady looking on, tears in her eyes. John instantly felt sorry for them, and he vowed then and there, quite unsure where this sudden burst of courage even came from, that he would do whatever he could to save as many of the tributes as possible. Perhaps they weren't quite as shady or intimidating in real life, just putting on a show for the Captial, hoping to live, just as he was.

District Eight reaped a petite, mousy girl named Molly Hooper. She seemed timid and shy as she took her place on the stage, and her eyes were wide with fear. John didn't hold out much hope for her surviving long either, and he pitited her. She seemed like a sweet girl, very pretty. His focus was suddenly shifted when the male tribute was called, something different happening than the others that instantly caught his attention. He watched intently as Sherlock Holmes make his way down to the place next to Molly. He could hear grumbles from the audience, no sympathetic sounds or pained cries like he had heard from many of the other tributes. Sherlock seemed to not to be very well liked, and instantly John could understand why. There was no expression at all on his face, just simple uncaring. He stared out at the audience as if they were a bunch of idiotic children that he couldn't waste his time on. Anger flared through him, as hot as fire. He was being sent to his possible death, and he didn't care? He just sat there, glaring at the world as if he was too good for it. Not showing a hint of surprise or pain or sympathy when he shook Molly's hand. He was void, face completely wiped clean of anything that resembled an emotion. John couldn't help but glare at the screen, not bothering to explain to the confused faces staring at him. He didn't know why he was so worked up about the situation. It wasn't _his _life he was throwing away by not caring if he lived or died. But just the same, he couldn't help but want to smack the tirbute and tell him just what an idiot he was.

From District Nine, a girl named Clara (if that didn't cause Harry to start drinking, John wasn't sure what would) and a boy by the name of Dimmock were reaped. Both seemed resigned to their fates, not entirely surprised by what happened. Disticts Ten and Eleven went by, John no longer paying attention. He was too focused on all of the people that would probably kill him once in the arena. There were a good many. Most of them, in fact, except that Sam kid and Molly. They didn't seem to be the type to kill.

Then, the horror to end all horrors began: the reaping of District Twelve. He was forced to watch Sarah as shock spread across her every feature as her name was called, forced to hear her family members out watching cry out in desperation. He was forced to watch his friend make her way to the stage, trembling and stricken. Then it was his turn. He closed his eyes and looked away, unable to take any more. But he could still hear his name being called, could still hear Harry's anguished scream nearly burst his eardrums. He heard a sort of a scuffle begin, probably a Peacekeeper making the mistake of trying to detain her while she was in distress. He hoped it was Ian, although he couldn't tell from his closed eyes and how the video quickly changed scenes to give the overall summary of all the tributes. As grandly as it began, it ended with the overused saying in the most annoyingly chipper voice imaginable: "Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!"

John finally opened his eyes as the screen went black. The silence in the room was almost overwhelming, but he could tell what they were all thinking. That they were both going to die. It was written all over their faces.

"Well, that's the end of that!" Gem declared, always the chipper one, it seemed. She jumped from her seat with a smile on her face. "Now, I am sure you are both tired. It has been a long day. Tomorrow we can discuss what we are going to do, and soon we will reach the Capital!"

Sarah and John retreated towards their respective bedrooms, right next door to each other. They didn't enter right away though, but stopped at their doors and just looked at each other. Sarah with frightened eyes brimming with tears, and John hadn't a clue as to how he looked, but he assumed he didn't look too much better off. He certainly didn't feel it.

"What do you think?" he asked aloud, although already knowing what she would say.

"I don't know. They all seemed so...strong and prepared for this. Especially that Moran guy from District Four. And that Moriarty from District Two really creeped me out. He has something up his sleeve, I know it."

"But that little boy from Three didn't seem so bad. He's a young one." John replied, trying to be optimistic but failing miserably.

"Don't underestimate him, John. People change in the arena, often for the worse. Someone can be shy and sweet, but change into a cold blooded murderer faster than you can blink." Sarah reprimanded, finding great interest in the floor. Her words sent pricks of ice to shoot up and down his spine. He took a deep breath and shook his head.

"Well that's not going to happen to me. I don't plan on murdering anyone. I plan to save as many as I can." he answered after a moment, voice a whisper. Sarah's eyes shot up to him in complete surprise.

"Are you telling me-"

"Yes, I think I am. I am going to go against the Captial on this. I am going to start a revolution." if he wasn't sure on this before, seeing all the faces of the good people that might die certainly helped him warm up to the idea. He was going to put an end to this, even if it put an end to him.

"And how on Earth are you going to do that? You can't just go against the Capital, John! Especially not by yourself! They will _destroy _you! Do you even have a plan?" Sarah hissed, horror spreading across her face.

"Not yet, not exactly. Harry told me that I had to make the people of the Capital care, actually and legitimately care about us. To make them realize we are just a bunch of teenagers, with hopes and fears and a future crushed into pieces because of these games. Make them realize we aren't just some random _animals _running around killing each other. I'll start with that." John explained, and he grabbed Sarah's hands in his. "I need your help for this, Sarah. I need your support."

She shook her head slowly, not taking her eyes off of John. He could tell she was waiting for him to take it all back, to admit it was a sick joke and wouldn't do that to her again. But it wasn't, and he wasn't going to take it back.

"They'll kill me, and you." she hissed, but she sounded unsure, desperate for any reason to back him off of this, and failing.

"It shouldn't matter. You already think you are going to die, so what's the difference? You can either die playing their stupid game, or die standing up for something you believe in, something good. It's your choice, but I've already made mine." He hated throwing all of this on her, now of all times. But they would reach the Capital soon, and the Games would start. He had to start planning now. "Goodnight, Sarah."

Without another word, he walked into his room and closed his door, leaving his friend staring after him with wide, shocked eyes.


	4. What Do We Do?

**Author's Note: After a very long wait, here is chapter four! I hope you enjoy it, even though it is long and still probably boring. But they will reach the Capital next Chapter, and we might get to meet a very well known consulting detective! ;) **

**And as always, thank you for reading my stories. It really does mean the world to me, whether you rate it and comment or not! 3 **

_His world seemed to be spinning all around him, shrouded in mist so thick he could barely see his own hand held out in front of him. Cold seeped through his skin and down to his bones, sending shivers that wracked his body violently. _

_"Where am I?" he muttered to himself, shocked momentarily at how small and far away his voice sounded. He could feel panic slowly rising like bile inside of him, and shut his eyes tightly against his cold, relentless surroundings. _

_'This is just a dream, John. Get a hold of youself. It has to be! Where were you right before you came here?' _

_ He kept asking himself that same question over and over, but his answer was the same each time. John had no idea. His mind was blank; only panic could be discerned and the healer was trying his hardest to keep that under control. This was a dream. It had to be a dream. _

_John kept telling himself this as he pinched his arms until red welts began to form. _

_John kept telling himself this still as the cold set in on him, surrounding him like a heavy blanket he could not shrug off. _

_If this was in fact a dream, he could not fathom a way of waking up any time soon. _

_ John took deep, steady breaths to calm himself as much as he could. Instead of fresh air, he breathed in mist, sending what felt like tiny shards of ice through his nose and down his throat. Panic kicked into over drive, making his heart race and his whole body tremble as he succumbed to violent coughs to rid himself of the ice prickling at him. _

_"John..." _

_ The voice seemed faint and very far away, but he could still hear it, clear as day. It caught his attention and the coughing ceased as he stilled to listen. _

_"H-Harry?" he called out, shakily rising to his feet, looking around desperately to find his sister through the ever present mist all around him. _

_"John!" Harry called back, voice louder this time, much closer. John hurriedly followed the sound, ignoring the persistent panic knawing at his heart. Harry was close. He would find her. _

_"John-Oh my God-JOHN!" her scream sent him running faster and more frantic than he ever had to run before. _

_"HARRY?!" He called back, eyes darting in every direction, helplessly trying to locate his sister in distress. Suddenly, he caught something moving in the corner of his eye. He whirled around to face it, and he nearly fell over at what he saw. There was Harry all right, but she was nothing but a shape in the mist. He could see right through her, as if she wasn't really there at all. _

_"Harry!" he screamed again, but she didn't seem to hear him, or even see him for that matter. Her gaze was locked onto a place above John's head, a place he was pretty sure wasn't there. Her eyes were filled with a horror so intense, he could feel his heart break for her. A moment later he saw exactly why. Another shape in the mist appeared behind her in the form of a Peacekeeper, knife at her throat. Rage, bright and hot flared within John at that moment. No one was allowed to touch his sister._

_"Get away from Harry, this instant." he ordered, voice calm and strong depsite the rollercoaster ride his emotions were undertaking. The Peacekeeper paid him no attention; it was like John wasn't even there. _

_"Win the Games. You have to win the Games. Start the revolution. You have to John. It's all up to you now." Harry was saying, her voice shaky with fear. She kept repeating herself over and over again, voice becoming more frantic with every word. _

_"All up to me? Harry what are you talking about? Calm down it's going to be alright-" _

_"That's enough talk now. Look at you, so scared to bits. You aren't so tough now, are you? Just a scared little girl, after all. No matter, you should have thought about this before hand. Time to pay." the Peackeeper's voice was as cool as water, smooth as silk. It almost sounded as if he was trying to be soothing, depsite the words being said. _

_"Harry, no!" John screamed as the knife slit right through her throat and she landed in a heap right before his feet. _

John awoke as he hit the floor, sweating profusely and tangled up in sheets. He didn't know how long he just laid there, fighting to control his breathing and his panic. It was a dream. A horrible nightmare due to nerves, that was all. Harry was back at home, safe as she could possibly get. With a weary groan he forced himself to stand, slipping the sheets back onto his bed as he went for a shower. Hopefully for breakfast they would serve tea. It was the one luxury he allowed himself back home. Apart from food and other necessities, tea was the only thing John ever got. It was expensive and hard to come by, but Walt had always taken care of it for him.

As the hot water rushed over him, he couldn't help but wonder how the old man was holding up. With Sarah and himself out of the picture, who was going to help him with all the patients who needed help? He could imagine the poor man being overrun by all the sickly.

"Hang in there, Walt. I hope at least one of us will come back to help you." he muttered to himself as he dressed and began to make his way to the dining room. No one was there just yet, but he could hear Gem's voice from the next room. Tiredly he plopped down in his seat as breakfast items began to be brought to the slim table. Eyes closed, he sat still as a statue hoping to rid himself of the nightmare that plagued his memory relentlessly. He didn't even notice when Sarah sat down next to him until she leaned over and whispered two words in his ear.

"I'm in."

John's eyes snapped open, and he whirled his head around to face his friend. She looked pale, frightened, and like she hadn't slept any better than he had.

"R-Really?" he asked, his voice sounding hoarse. He quickly cleared his throat before continuing. "Are you sure?"

Sarah nodded briefly and shot him a wink and a sly grin as Gem and their mentor casually walked into the room and took their seats.

"Good morning, Children!" Gem sang in her high pitched voice, making John wince internally. She was way too upbeat about this situation. "I trust you both slept well?"

"Oh yes. Those beds are so soft!" Sarah exclaimed in a voice that screamed the forced enthusiasm that only John seemed to pick up on.

"I thought you would love them! Just wait till we get to the Capital, they are even better! Speaking of which, we should be getting there soon!"

It took everything John had not to choke on his food right then and there. They were almost to the Capital? So soon? A terrible and overwhelming fear gripped him, and he couldn't help but grip the edge of the table to keep himself from trembling. He felt a hand grip his arm, and he looked up to see Sarah giving him a look as terrified as his own.

"So what do we do?" he finally spoke up, eyeing his mentor who seemed utterly fascinated with a piece of what appeared to be toast.

"What do you do for what?" he replied blandly, not taking his eyes off of his toast. Something in John snapped at that comment. Their lives were at stake, and he didn't even seem to care, let alone help them.

"We are going to be at the Capital soon! The Games are going to start! We need to figure out what our angle is going to be, how we are going to train. You're our mentor, or at least supposed to be, so tell us, _what do we do?" _

Everyone was silent for a long moment. Gem and Sarah seemed to look everywhere but at the two men staring each other down across the dining table. But John could care less if people were uncomfortable or upset. This was ridiculous. They were going to a fight to the death, without a lick of understanding of what they were even supposed to do about it. Their mentor was supposed to be helping them, giving them advice on how to survive longer than two seconds in the arena at least. This man was doing absolutely nothing for them, and John was tired of it already.

"You want advice? Here's some. Survive! Do whatever it takes to live! That's all you need to know. Whatever they teach you in private sessions doesn't matter in the end. How to shoot with a bow and arrow, how to cut things with a knife? In the end, when you are out there in that arena, you don't think. You don't plan. People turn into animals in there. You just go through the motions that keep you alive! Good enough for you, hot shot?"

"How did you win?" This time Sarah's quiet voice broke the silence that fell over the room like a smothering blanket.

"You don't need to know about me. Just worry about yourself." their mentor replied, voice quieter compared to his outburst just a few moments before. Without another word, he stiffly rose from his seat and stalked out of the room.

"Well," replied Gem awkwardly, shooting the ever present glittering smile. "You two better get ready. We should be arriving at the Captial pretty soon! It is beautiful, let me tell you!"

John was fairly certain beautiful wouldn't be the word he would think of in laying eyes on the place where he could eventually die. But he shot her a small grin anyways and left the room, Sarah trailing behind him.


End file.
